Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 3rd Daily
Wordcount: 1058/500
Topic: Picture a kingdom. Fast-forward ten years. What changed in the kingdom?

Dedicated to- Queen Juhyeon, The Nymph Queen

Arjytt was the only nymph kingdom in the entire world. It was the only kingdom that resided in the forest, the only kingdom with advanced architecture, and the first civilization of creatures working together. Fire nymphs had gone extinct far long back in the Jurassic age. Their volcanic homes never ceased to exist, but they did. The star nymphs had been sighted only by one person- their only hint of existence being the clouds they had left on their treetops. Soon all that was left were the water nymphs, the tree nymphs, the ice nymphs, and the sand nymphs.

The ice nymphs disappeared from the kingdom altogether perhaps a hundred years after it was built. No nymph was brave enough to venture into the islands to find them, so they too faded from the future generations' minds. Nymphs of all types were born- different colors, accents, eyes, lips, and voice. Each nymph was unique- no nymph ever looked the same.

Everything went well, till the decade mark struck the kingdom. A festival was held to celebrate a hundred and ten years, called the Star Festival. They had this every time a decade mark approached.

During the star festival, ten sand nymphs were found deceased in the forest with a weapon lying near them which could only possibly have belonged to the elves.

The first Queen of the Nymphs rose when the war broke out between the elves. Before that period, all nymphs had lived in harmony and there was no use of a ruler in the land. But when the battlefield littered hundreds and maybe thousands of both elves and nymphs, many tried to escape and run away. Some started stealing, some betrayed their kind. Some were elves sent from the other side to assassinate their best warriors, and some people just wanted to protect their trees- to protect their homes.

Queen Juhyeon was not kind- she was strong, and she led her people to battle valiantly, but she was not kind. She was not kind to her followers, she was not kind to her enemies, and most importantly, she was not kind to herself. Those who did not hate her would choose to sooner or later, not being able to see the extreme stress she was put under. The first queen of the land- the first queen of the nymphs, the first queen in history. If she failed not only would her people face defeat and humiliation, but perhaps lose all of their land too. The elves lived on the far side of the forest, but they would always take something from another just to be spiteful. That was just their nature. They would probably leave the kingdom bare once they had one- amused the nymphs had been killed off.

The war went on and on. Three Star festivals had passed by without a single nymph coming out of their house to celebrate. The land was devoid of color, and the only time you could see more than one nymph gathered in a place was on the battlefield. Queen Juhyeon, during that time, had set up quiet camps around the forest for the refugees who couldn't fight, like the smallest of children, Most importantly she had done everything in her power to protect her trees- she had learned her lesson when an elf had entered in the dead of night and started cutting down every tree in sight. The next morning was not pretty. At least thirty-five nymphs were buried that day.

So yes, Queen Juhyeon was not kind. And then, neither were the nymphs. The kingdom went from a bustling place of clouds and branches to a quiet cemetery full of stones, bows, swords, and daggers. No nymph valued another life, elf or not. Their only job was to win- to eliminate the threat, at least for the day.

The battle raged till the end of next year. The elves had surrendered- seeing the nymph's violent behavior, they were shocked. It would have been an easy ambush for them when the nymphs had been as happy-go-lucky as they were before. Though the nymphs should have had a celebration, all they could do was retreat to their houses and sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep for perhaps two or three days.

During those three days, Queen Juhyeon couldn't catch a wink of rest. She was constantly paranoid that somebody would hurt her people again. Over and over she went out to their border to check for enemies, but all she saw were the lifeless body of her and their soldiers. She was going insane- there was nobody around her in the quiet place, nobody awake except her.

She tried to believe that her followers appreciated her, but she had been told downright by broken nymphs that she was a horrible person for sending them into war. Why didn't she just let them hide? Why did they have to fight for their kind, when their kind turned on the losing side? Why must they fight for a worthless Queen?

Queen Juhyeon sat down on the hard earth, her grey eyes staring out at the dead people in front of her. Whether or not they had been their enemies, why did so many have to die? What was the point of this entire experience if neither of the kingdoms got a victory? What were all the deaths for? Perhaps they had “won”- the elves had surrendered. But the way that she saw it, they had lost far more than they had achieved. All they had gained was a massacre.

When the nymphs woke up, feeling much better, they went to search for their queen. To thank her, to tell her they were wrong for hating her, to tell her that she was the bravest of them all. What they found was her tree- a huge acacia tree with magnificent leaves and sturdy bark- fallen to the ground. In a panic, they searched around for their ruler. All they found was her delicate body leaning up against a tree, her unblinking eyes staring onto the battlefield they would have cleaned that day. Her unmoving hands laid askew as if she had cast a spell, most probably to break the tree, her cheeks with stains, as if she had been crying.

With that, the nymphs lost yet another beloved part of their forest.

Go back

The pier floor rocked in the tide, unstable foundations quivering in the storm. Despite the harsh and torrential rain the, quite literally, ‘floating market’ went on bustling through the night until every last good was sold and all families provided for. In the early days the town had set itself out as a lower income settlement for the capital to deter trade to, yet, at some point - or other - somebody had built a great big fort, sharply on the side of the nearby overlooking mountain, mostly to both watch and intimidate the citizens. Nobles were absolutely under no circumstances to trust the lower classes. The fort was actually more of an ivory incrusted palace for the current governor to live life in luxury, but this only actually appeared close up so it wasn't an issue with the people yet.



The palace gardens were chocked full of the local peasants and the new governor, a stout, clammy man with slowly-balding black hair and a chubby face, was bringing himself up to a wooden podium under a scarlet pigmented tent.
“Attention all…” He managed to cough out in a nervous whisper. “As you may well know ,yes thank you Heng Masako, that information /definitely/ needed to be shared, the invaders /may/ be targeting our small home.” (the more unconnected fisherman who had been living under a rock* let out short yelps of panic) Another man stepped up.
“You may still be wandering how we are going to stop this, /welp/ our settlement is actually quite well protected,” he stopped, overly rushed the next few words “all thanks to the capital and our great emperor of course.” The prior, stouter man, leaned over to address the crowd whilst the taller man, presumably some sort of assistant, breathed a sigh of relief.
“We will close the gates…” he proudly exclaimed (but it really wasn't a complicated plan). Slowly the great wooden gates of the original fort walls closed… shutting the people in forever.

*they did not technically live under a rock, but then again they did visit the cliff cavities a lot to search for cave fish and the stench often meant other peasants did not wish to talk to them, gossip didn't generally stretch that far



Every bolt and screw that held the palace up was beginning to rust. Upon the steeple there was an attached platform that was meant for the everlasting beacon to sit on. The beacon was not lit. Further down in the town, in the old docks and floating market, a huge party was taking place, yet an observer could not recognise a single one of the what were now the village's inhabitants. As brightly blinding fireworks exploded into the deep, lurking night, a colossal call of
“WE WON,” erupted, rumbling every inch of earth within a mile's radius. Long, flowing, azure-blue banners and flags were unfurled and waved under every overhanging wall and in every hand. The former empire had always provided for the town in an adequate sense, the future had been made unclear but the one certainty was that the docks were /definitely/ being fixed.

Daily: July 3 | The Kingdom of Hiraya (512 words)

Author's Note: The terms here are based on Filipino words and a touch of Filipino mythology! Although, the Philippines is the polar opposite of an icy place haha. Enjoy!

The hidden kingdom of Hiraya was located in the icy heart of Kaharilo. The buildings were created using marahuyo, a special type of ice found in the depths of the Kaharilo caverns and created from enchantments. Its palace was what the people would call heaven. The facade was adorned with mutya, a special gem. and the palace was surrounded by a moat of everlasting freshwater. The prosperous kingdom was surrounded by walls and was guarded by the Diwata, a powerful fairy who brought Hiraya its vast fortunes. The Diwata kept the kingdom of Hiraya hidden from the outside world and the outside world hidden from Hiraya, so the Hirayans may live away from human corruption. Not a soul was tainted by corruption, and the kingdom lived in harmony.

The people of Hiraya drastically advanced with their technology, and they utilized marahuyo to create transportation vehicles for their convenience. Hirayans started longing to travel outside of their utopia, but the Diwata enchanted the minds of the people, and so their desires were forgotten. They began to build new facilities, and the palace now had mutya on all four sides, and the palace was expanded a hectare further. The Diwata was proud of the Hirayans, but she still feared that her enchantment would fade soon, and they would remember their lost desire.

The Diwata's enchantment weakened, and the Hirayans remembered their desire again. They enhanced their vehicles and began thinking of ways to destroy the barrier that kept their kingdom secret. Corruption began to form in their hearts, but the Diwata struggled to contain it, for human corruption was still too powerful, even for the Diwata herself. The Diwata did everything she could to protect the kingdom she loved dearly, but each spell and enchantment slowly weakened her soul. Along with this, the marahuyo enchantment slowly weakened, leading to buildings slowly disintegrating.

Alas, human corruption took over the souls of the Hirayans and defeated the power of the Diwata. The kingdom was now descending into ruins. Marahuyo had lost its special properties, and it turned to normal ice. Everything began to melt. The barrier separating Hiraya from the rest of the world was lifted. Other tribes and kingdoms began to invade the once prestigious kingdom of Hiraya, and the Hirayans could not even pray to the gods above for protection. They tried to salvage the remaining marahuyo in the Kaharilo caverns hoping they would still have enchantment, but even those of the caverns were melting. Nothing could help them, for their Diwata was gone, and so was their precious marahuyo.

The remaining Hirayans were scattered across the globe. Some were taken in as refugees, while others were taken in as slaves. The once ethereal utopia of Hiraya was now a barren, icy wasteland that is survived by its former citizens through tales and songs. Hirayans struggled to find their place in the unfamiliar and strange world, for the technology of the world was far behind what Hiraya once had. The Hirayans' desires had came true, and for this they lived in regret and sorrow.

july 3rd daily!!! (posted on behalf of my alt, @maddie-mangoes, as it is still a new scratcher!)

In the ethereal glow of a moonlit night, the Kingdom of Dalthador lay shrouded in an enigmatic aura. Its landscape was a tapestry of time, with ancient, crumbled castles whispering tales of yore, and a newer fortress of exquisite bluestone standing proudly amidst them. This mystical realm, nestled on the rugged coast of a vast island near the shores of Scotland, had been the cradle of its people for centuries. The Dalthadorians, as they were known, had braved the capricious seas, voyaging to and from the mainland as necessity beckoned.

At the heart of this kingdom reigned a monarch couple, celebrated for their fairness and sagacity. The queen, a paragon of beauty, was revered as the fairest in all the lands. Her radiance was only eclipsed by the joy that suffused Dalthador when she bore a daughter, Princess Delilah. The birth of the princess was heralded as a harbinger of prosperity, and the kingdom rejoiced in unison.

A decade wove its course, and Princess Delilah, blossoming into a young maiden, embarked on a ceremonial journey with her royal parents. Their destination was Scotland, to pay homage to its king and queen. Alas, as fate would have it, a tempest of monstrous ferocity arose, casting their vessel upon the merciless rocks. The kingdom was plunged into an abyss of sorrow, mourning the tragic loss.

As years turned to a decade once more, a melancholic air enveloped Dalthador. Its people, hearts heavy with grief, began to depart, leaving behind a kingdom that once thrived with life and laughter. The grand city and its verdant countryside, once teeming with activity, now lay forsaken, save for the solitary sheep grazing upon the hills.

Another ten years dissipated into the mists of time, and the memory of Dalthador faded from the minds of its former inhabitants. The island itself seemed to succumb to oblivion, shrouded by mists so thick that it vanished from sight, only to be glimpsed from the mainland on days when the sun shone with exceptional brilliance.

Yet, destiny had not forsaken Dalthador. A decade later, a man, once a child of this forgotten isle, stood upon the mainland's coast, his gaze piercing the horizon. It was then that a sonorous peal echoed across the sea, a great bell tolling with a resonance that reached his ears. This mysterious chime persisted for two more days, compelling the man to rally his comrades. Together, they set sail under the benevolence of fair weather, only to discover an astonishing sight—the kingdom of Dalthador, miraculously restored to its former glory, as if time had reversed its cruel hand. In the heart of the courtyard stood a majestic statue of the late king, queen, and Princess Delilah, a silent testament to their enduring legacy.

With the passage of yet another decade, the descendants of Dalthador's people returned, their eyes wide with wonder at the sight of their rejuvenated homeland. Whispers of spectral guardians and ancestral spirits abounded, each theory as enchanting as the next. But the legends that endured spoke of Princess Delilah, the benevolent spirit who, it was said, had breathed new life into the castle of her birth, rekindling the heart of a kingdom she cherished in her youth.

Now, ten years on, the people of Dalthador thrive once more, their lives a tapestry of joy and celebration on the isle just off Scotland's coast. The most magnificent of their festivities is marked by the ringing of the colossal bell in the castle tower, a sound that reverberates through time, calling the people of Dalthador back to their sovereign realm.

And so, the tale endures, passed down through generations—the saga of Delthador and the Lost Princess Delilah. Whether you choose to see it as a fable or a truth etched in the annals of time, the legend of Delthador continues to captivate the hearts of all who hear it.

Lots of love, Mads <3
@maddie-mangoes

daily 07.03 | picture a kingdom | 1405 words | 500 points

In a faraway land stood a village on the lip of the sea: in its streets ran the children of bakers and blacksmiths, and ivy tumbled from windowsills like rapids in a fall. It was a small kind of place, where no one ever arrived or left, and the only histories were passed from grandparent to grandchild by generation. The bases of the homes were bare decades old, and the waters off the coast were rich with fish that had scarcely seen humankind. A steepled building rose the highest of all in the town, and it held only simple altars, where the village folk arranged berries in the summer and bundles of wheat at harvesttime as offerings to their benevolent gods of the rivers and winter winds and morning dew.

A decade passed with the ebb of the tides on the sand. The village grew slowly, crawlingly, like cracks across the ground. The roads stretched outward, sprawling across the hills inland, and trees were felled to make space for cottages and family-owned shops and homes built from their wood. A temple was built at the seam of the land and the sea to honor the storm god, and the children of the worshippers whispered that they could see lightning haloing the spire. A carpenter’s daughter who had been six ten years ago has now turned sixteen, and she learned how to love and how to be in her hometown over the ocean. The sapling in a grandmother’s garden has become a spindly tree with ambitions of touching the sky.

Another decade later and the cogs of generations had turned. The village was no longer a village but a fledgling city, and the first tricklings of outsiders had come across their isolated corner of the world. The fishermen built boats and their wives wove nets so that they could catch greater rewards farther from the coast. The buildings grew taller, the farms more fruitful, and the people more populous. The carpenter’s daughter became a mother of her own daughter. The sapling scraped the clouds, and every year boasted ripe figs in spades, its identity found.

Ten years rolled by, and the seasons waxed and waned like the moon. A deadly winter brought a wicked sickness and bodies laid still like fallen flies in the shadowed bellies of their homes. The carpenter passed with his daughter and granddaughter sat at his bedside. A boy at nineteen grew tired of the routine and packed a satchel to ride off into nowhere, leaving a murmur of discontent and worry behind with his mourning mother. The city grew and grew, and wagons rolled down gravel streets with loads of food that could’ve fed the entire population a decade or three ago. Scavengers left and returned on excursions more often than ever before. The storm god’s temple became worn, and one dreary summer night a flood dragged out all of the offerings to sea. The city folk said it was the deity claiming their belongings. The fig tree’s heaviest branch was chopped off to be used to make furniture, and its fruits didn’t taste quite the same as they had.

Another decade. The city boomed outward and upward, and isolation became a long-forgotten word. A ship arrived from afar and with it, a connection was bridged across the great ocean. The restless left the city for greater pursuits and exploration, but for each that left three more arrived from unknown places. Temples sprung up between rapidly expanding homes, and there was finally a purpose for building inns. The farms stretched farther out away from the coast so that they could produce enough food to feed everyone, and the shoreline became louder and busier with every passing year. Furnaces burned in the winter and families gathered around them to shake off their shivers. A man with big aspirations and a bigger need for control crafted a system of governance more concrete than any before, and gold coins appeared in people’s pockets for the first time. Bartering was dethroned as the sole form of trade. The carpenter’s granddaughter succeeded the city leader when he passed during a winter night, and her mother cheered her on, clapping with hands calloused from decades of work. The city became too big to be seen all at once from any spot, no matter how high. It inched toward the mountains far from the sea where it was born. The fig tree stood steady; the grandmother who planted it passed long ago, and her grandson was now a grandfather himself.

The city became something bigger at some point along the way, when its temples grew massive and the beginnings of a castle were built in its heart. The carpenter’s granddaughter became a monarch of sorts, and her profile was painted on walls and hung in bread shops. Her stomach swelled with pregnancy. Generations continued to pass.

The first steepled building in the kingdom, built in a now-forgotten time, was torn down to make room for new structures. In its basement, the builders found the rotted remains of old offerings. A wooden bowl of honey sat on the floor, the honey still golden but dusty, the wood eaten. A brewer’s house was built on the cleared land. The day its construction finished, a celebration was across the kingdom in honor of the birth of the carpenter’s granddaughter’s daughter.

Ten years later, a tremendous storm flooded the area by the shore, and the old storm god’s temple sank into the hungry ocean. The kingdom’s people who lived farther out came down to help rebuild, their own homes untouched and far enough away that many couldn’t even see the blue of the ocean. Ships were wrecked in the waves and tumbled into the depths, and their survivors came to walk the land with hollower eyes. The carpenter’s granddaughter watched from the turret of her castle, sent letters out with her messengers, and felt the wrinkles in her fingers deepen as her hair turned grey.

Time ran. A clocktower was built near the mountain line, tall and sturdy and reliable, and the children who grew up in the shadows of the hills were always familiar with its chimes. In the summer, a group of unhappy farmers protested in front of the castle until the carpenter’s granddaughter promised them higher wages. Meanwhile, her grandson sat at a table with a tutor, learning about the intricacies of agriculture and trade and weather cycles and constellations, and all the other things a future king would have to know. Great ships were built to take bigger crews across the sea, and at the same time, similar ones arrived from foreign kingdoms, bringing people who spoke unfamiliar tongues and had hair, skin, and eyes unlike any the kingdom had ever seen.

One springtide, a conquering army crested the mountains and arrived on the outskirts of the kingdom with the intent to massacre. The weary grey queen called for troops to defend their homeland, and her teenaged grandson snuck away to fight with his people, rebellious and determined to see the realities of the world. The conquerors were defeated, but blood sank into the soil, and cemeteries were built in every nook of every city.

Ten years passed, and the carpenter’s granddaughter died on a solemn winter evening. Her coffin was marched through the streets until they reached the coast, where she was laid to rest near the sea she’d grown up by. Candles were lit in every window to honor the kingdom’s fallen queen, who had ruled for decades longer than most of the kingdom had been alive for. Her grandson was coronated with flowers in his hair and gold embroidery over his shoulders, and he had turned from a student to a soldier to a king. The kingdom grew and wavered and waxed and waned. It sprawled from the mountains to the sea and beyond and in between.

A decade later, the fig tree’s last fruits were eaten. When it was felled, its trunk laid on the earth, feeling its pulse — the pitter-patter of the poor children, the rumble of wheels through the streets, the ripple of water in the canals, the mutterings of the king in his castle, the tide washing up on the ancient shore, the friction of clouds gathered above the aging kingdom. Once upon a time, the fig tree was a sapling planted in a little village on the lip of the sea.

first part of my weekly for sci-fi:

The crisp autumn breeze blew through the forest, rustling any leaves still left on the trees as it went. The ground was covered in the leaves that had fallen, and they crunched noisily beneath Lily’s feet. She strolled along the bank with her sketchbook in hand until she came to a small clearing. It was quiet at first, but if you listened, then it was almost as if you could hear the whole forest. Birds chirped in the trees, and squirrels dug around in the fallen leaves, searching for acorns. The rushing water made the stream sound almost alive, too. Lily sat down near the trunk of the tallest tree in the clearing and opened her sketchbook. She gazed at the sunlight slicing through the tree branches for a moment before beginning to draw. Her pencil moved swiftly across the page as she sketched the landscape, drawing every detail to capture the beauty of the scene.

Daily 3 / July 3 / 611 words

Name: Krm
Pronouns: She/her
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Always looking for writing advice, book recommendations, or people to talk to! :]
Archive: here

The leaves whisper here, whisper the hushed secrets exchanged by those gathering underneath. The leaves listen. And the murmurs harmonize into a monotonous hum as messages travel. The leaves never fall, though—at least not outside of the King’s gates. Inside of the King’s gates, the forests shed leaves like snowflakes. The leaves drift gracefully to the ground, each with their own song, their own moment captured in its veins once it separates itself from the trunk. And the King’s spies gather up the leaves, and they listen. Listen to the leaves. Listen to the villagers, who live life beneath the tree’s shade. Listen to the brewing rebellions. And they act—stomping any of these uprisings out before they spread.

– – 10 years later – –

The leaves still whisper here, but the villagers no longer do. The old king had passed, and his son King Orlynd does not bother with matters fickle as the happiness of citizens. The curfew is strict: anyone caught outside of their house after the sun sets would be jailed for days, if not weeks. After the sunset, soldiers check each building for weapons or illegal items. Because pay is poor, families may need the small reward for reporting others for treason. All ears are open for any murmur of rebellion, and so the revolts did not begin to stir underneath the listening branches. The spies no longer gather scattered leaves from the palace grounds. Instead, the leaves sway in the breeze, rustling against one another and unburdened by secrets.

– – 10 years later – –

The leaves continue to whisper, but no one bothers listening. The King’s Court no longer saw the need for spies, and instead hired additional soldiers. Without spies, the knowledge of the leaves’ magic was soon forgotten. And the forests are nearly silent, aside from the leaves—it’s now forbidden to enter the forest because the King deemed it dangerous. A plague has swept through the kingdom over the past year: people who seem healthy one day would drop dead the next. And so the village families quarantine themselves from each other, only creeping silently out of the house to hustle to the market and buy enough to last the family until the next trip. Because there is such little discussion between townspeople, they never notice that the King’s soldiers never catch this illness. In fact, the King’s soldiers seem to be related to any death involving this mysterious plague. Those who seem to show signs of rebellion are often taken by the sickness in the following weeks, and the soldiers sometimes would laugh as they announce the sickness as a cause of death.

– – 10 years later – –

The leaves here whisper, whisper the secrets of the rebellion. Leaves had begun to fall outside of the King’s grounds and spread the messages of an uprising. Villages began creating hidden stockpiles of crops. Soon after, Farmers would begin to refuse to pay their crop tax. It was found that the soldiers had been poisoning anyone against the king and blaming it on an illness; there was no proof there ever was an illness to begin with. The soldiers imprison all those who do not pay their taxes. The jails become overcrowded, the villages underpopulated. There are not enough resources for the king’s court to live as lavishly as it once did. The villagers are beginning a plot to fully overthrow King Orlynd, and debate on how they want to run a government without royalty. The King’s generals pace anxiously around the king’s grounds, plotting the ways to defend the castle against the inevitable attack. And the leaves listen, they gossip, they carry these plans back to the waiting ears of the resistance.

#3 Kingdom
You’re about to take a small stroll in the forest, far away from your town. After 2 minutes, though it felt like 30 minutes you turned and saw the gateway to your town literally 4 feet behind you. You sigh and walk further. You check your watch, 11:45am. Even though it was still the morning, the forest looked really dark. You walk a bit further… well it seemed like just a bit. You check your watch once again, 1:23. You continue walking, wait- 1:23?! You turn around and stare into the dark space filled with trees. You couldn’t even see your town. It (for some reason) started getting cold, even though it was the middle of summer and it was the afternoon. You shiver, considering being in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. You then hear rustling and it makes you jump. You’re not alone anymore. You’re too scared to speak and stare at the bush where the rustling came from. BAWK BAWK BAWK A chicken? The sound was coming from the right to you. The bush was to the left of you. BAWK BAWK BAWK BAWK It was now coming from all directions. quack There seemed to be a duck too. You were surrounded by feeble animals. “FEEBLE?!” yelled a voice. It could’ve been your self voice, but it didn’t seem like it. It was coming from the direction of one of the chickens. “ Who are you calling feeble human?!” yelled the voice again. ‘Ok, it’s definitely the chicken this time’ you think to yourself. “Oh yeah, it is!” yelled the same voice. You start worrying, ‘Am I hallucinating? What the heck is going on? Can chickens read my brain?’ “No, I don’t know, why are you here? And only me.” said the same voice again. “W-well, I was only taking a stroll in the forest. Then you were here.” you told them, shakily. “Alright. Do you mind taking a few steps to the right?” it asked. “No, not at all.” you replied. The chicken placed a brick down and 2 mallard ducks came in wearing cute, tiny builder hats. A giant dust cloud appeared and soon enough, they built a building. Except, it was awfully tiny. Probably only the size for a chicken or a duck. The brain reading chicken seemed to be the leader and they all did whatever it said. You stare in awe at the already small town, the size of your town. But they built it within minutes. “We’ve built every single city, town, kingdom, civilization in this forest. But this one, is for us.” the leader told you. You nodded. “So, don’t you let your human friends take this one too.” You nodded again. “Thank you. But you, my friend, could come and stay here whenever you want.” You nodded happily.

10 YEARS LATER…

You went for a stroll in the forest again. The memory from a decade ago still is very clear in your mind. ‘I wonder how much progress they made’ you thought to yourself. You check the time, 1:56. You have 2 hours and 8 minutes left until you arrive. What felt like 4 minutes, this time of happiness and pure excitement, you arrived at two gateways guarded by older looking chickens. “Hello!” you exclaim. You took a step forward and they didn't stop you. Then again, then again, then again until you were inside the- woah. The once small town looked like a giant kingdom! Shaded by trees and filled by buildings. At the very back was what looked like a mansion that fit humans. You walked over there and looked inside, it was beautiful. It was like a very modern house style. “I know, it’s impressive right?” called a voice from 3 levels upstairs. The brain-reading chicken seemed to live here. You walked the tiring amounts of steps upstairs. “You know there’s an elevator right?” said the chicken. It was hidden to the left of the entrance door, the opposite side of the stairs. “I didn’t know.” you told it. “Oh, well this house was built for you, and this level. Is for me.” it said royally. “Ok that’s fine for me.” you said.
THE END (OR IS IT?)

daily 3: time skip kingdoms (621 words)

elysian started out as a small village of half-formed dreams and salty air, a place where all of the world’s maddest artists gathered to pursue their work away from prying eyes and whispers of ‘I’ll never understand.’
a small group of townspeople ruled as a council and operated a small port, the waves of the olympian sea lapping gently against the barnacle-crusted hulls of the merchant ships that occasionally docked. they came to elysian hoping to sell their miracle goods (‘this magical tonic, harvested from the banks of the andiron river, cures the horrors of aging with just a taste!’, they cried, shaking their bottles of sherry madly. ‘only eight coppers a bottle!’), only to be turned away with a barrage of creative curses (elysian boasted a few sailors-turned-bards who taught the other the townspeople all about the nuances of foul language) and a faceful of rotten fruit. ‘you’ll be sorry when your face shrivels up!’ the merchants cried, overripe tomatoes tracing a track of juice down their faces as they trudged back to their ships.
yes, the people of elysian were private and sometimes unkind, but they were visionaries, and they were happy. it was the perfect arrangement, seeing as everyone knew that disgruntled geniuses were nothing but trouble.

ten years later, the rest of olympia seemed to have forgotten this crucial truth. the first of the ships arrived in the port on the twentieth day of the seventeenth starseason, claiming to come on behalf of elysian’s new king. the people of elysian were defenseless against the wave of hardened soldiers who quickly overwhelmed the town, claiming to have the best interests of the elysians at heart as they turned the once-small town of elysian into a bustling hub bursting with soldiers and government officials in a matter of years. soon, the buildings that were once home to sharp-tongued poets and daydreaming artists were turned into government buildings and soldier’s barracks. the children, once educated on the details of language and the nuances of color, were taught how to shoot a rifle and forced to read long, dusty books on law and strategy. their bright eyes dulled, their faces turned sullen, and their imaginations struggled to survive; sharp flashes of inspiration were offset by the forbidden nature of that which required dreaming. it was a bleak period in elysian’s history, but don’t be afraid: imagination always prevails, somehow.

fast forward another ten years, and a rebellion was brewing: the asphodel society, a group formed to counteract the supposed decline into the world of asphodel from ancient olympian mythology, secretly worked to undermine the kingdom’s power, all while convincing elysian’s townspeople to stretch their minds and use their imaginations. they pushed back in small ways: snatches of poetry here and there, a bit of a brushstroke, a small story… but eventually, it grew, and soon, it grew so much that the king and his court couldn’t contain it, and the world turned upside down in a blur of imaginary fire and a burst of creative sparks.

ten years later, elysian was once again a bustling metropolis, but, this time, one of ideas and creativity: the lightbulb, which had once been the secret symbol of the asphodel society, now adorned every wall and door. the liberated townspeople formed their own government and turned elysian into an artist’s paradise, a haven of imagination, and, of course, a place of magic. after all, creativity is just another form of magic, and the magic of ideas, or ‘lightbulb moments’ (as the elysians like to call them), will keep the kingdom running for generations to come. as the elysians always say, ‘a world is only as great as the strength of the imaginations that inhabit it.’

weekly #2 ౨ৎ
xxx total words
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

July 3rd:
“Close your eyes and picture a kingdom- it can look like anything you'd like! Write a paragraph about it… now stop! Fast-forward ten years. What changed in the kingdom? What new developments are there? Continue to fast forward ten years after each paragraph until you have 500 words for 400 points (and a bonus 100 for sharing proof!)”

Author’s Notes:
✦ i got the name of the kingdom by keyboard smashing and fixing it to look better
✦ i also got the names of the characters by keyboard smashing
✦ i also got the population by keyboard smashing
✦ i think you get the point
✦ can you tell that i know almost nothing about how worldbuilding works /lh
✦ kinda rushed since i did this daily late at night oops
✦ not very proofread

THE HISTORY OF THE CAHDEEM KINGDOM OVER THE DECADES SINCE 1891: AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENT
> DO NOT ENTER UNLESS AUTHORIZED.
> FILE OWNER: Feajrin Kafh, Official Servant of Monarchs, Right-Hand Man of Queen Vekajhe

1891
> FLOATING high in the sky, shimmering with starlight and filled to the brim with regal architecture, lies a kingdom known as Cahdeem. Its magnificent walls are painted with a royal purple that stands out amongst the inky blue sky. Villages are scattered around, full of tight-knit neighbours who show kindness and respect to anyone. Any sign of rudeness is strictly frowned upon and is against the law, with the penalty being five-hundred (500) starees, which is the currency of Cahdeem. Railings are situated against ever border to prevent any possible injuries from falling off. The islands are held up by a magical force that is controlled by the Council of Starlie Magic.
> ESTIMATED population to be 19,394 as of June 7, 1891.
> ESTIMATED amount of islands to be 192.
> CURRENT ruler is King Oqurn.

1901
> STILL sustaining comfortably, the kingdom of Cahdeem has significantly increased in population and landscaping. The purple paint still stands bright, showing off the majestic royalty of Cahdeem. People continue to live life as normal, however towers stand taller. Crops have been especially plenty in the past decade, with tomatoes being the easiest to grow, contrary to the cabbages that were the most prominent in the last few years. The penalty for potraying rude manners has been increased to seven-hundred-and-five (705) starees, however exceptions have been granted for rudeness in drama, theatre, movies, and other acting-related scenarios. Railings have been built taller due to several accidents – Feajrin Kafh notes that nobody has been hurt, for the Council of Starlie Magic has caught them before anything happened. The Council of Starlie Magic continues to keep the islands floating high in the sky.
> ESTIMATED population to be 59,539 as of June 9, 1901.
> ESTIMATED amount of islands to be 239. Cahdeem has expanded to a much larger land to sustain the increase of population.
> CURRENT ruler is King Oqurn.

1911
> THE kingdom of Cahdeem is put in a shock as King Oqurn has passed via an unknown disease. The new ruler, Queen Ejdhe, sends out a warning to every citizen to be careful and clean, for scientists have not yet discovered the cause nor name for this mysterious disease. Many of the population is put at risk, for they have also caught the illness. Construction goes slower. However, purple towers still stand tall in the sky, pronouncing that the kingdom of Cahdeem’s glory shall not be taken away. Prices raise slightly, and citizens start to worry. This does not stop them, however, from being kind and considerate to every person around them. The Kindness Only Act of 1890’s penalty has been raised to one-thousand-and-two-hundred (1,200) starees. The Council of Starlie Magic frequently reports in meetings that they feel an unknown force, and work harder to keep the islands in the sky. Accidents via railings have been lowered significantly, however not many people seem to leave the safe space of their cottages.
> ESTIMATED population to be 82,192 as of June 5, 1911.
> ESTIMATED amount of islands to be 279.
> CURRENT ruler is Queen Ejdhe.

1922
> FEAJRIN KAFH NOTE: REPORT IS BEING WRITTEN IN 1927 DUE TO SEVERAL MISHAPS.
> KING Ejdhe retires, leaving Queen Vekajhe as ruler. The mysterious disease, now known as The Cahdeem Disease of 1911 (TCDO11), leaves many people in hospitals. More hospitals have been built to satisfy this need. The purple paint begins to fade, and the towers are signifcantly less colourful than before. Construction is slowed.
> By 1921, the Council of Starlie Magic has gotten sick and weak, and thus the islands collapse. The Kingdom of Cahdeem is put in panic, but Queen Vekajhe tells everybody not to worry. Everyone works harder than ever to restore Cahdeem to its former glory and beauty.
> ESTIMATED population to be 38, 127 as of June 18, 1927. A majority of the population have moved out to neighbouring kingdoms after the collapse.
> ESIMATED amount of islands to be 1.
> CURRENT ruler is Queen Vekajhe.

Word Count: ~692

Daily 3:
A tiny kingdom, poked out from the ground. It hardly was a kingdom, with its few shops or buildings, and the castle hardly even was much of castle, but this little kingdom, was now home to a young royal family, whom lived in the the tiny castle, that sat by a large forest, filled with tall, woody trees, and animals, who were all very uncertain of these new creature whom were settling their land. The King and Queen worried about the forest, about what dangers it might hold. But their young daughter, Princess Hope, did not. She loved to run about the castle, or play with the villager children, which the King wasn’t too pleased about.

10 years later…
14 year old Princess Hope ran down to the village to see her friend Amber, “Hi!” She screamed to her friend “Hello! Good morning!” Amber called back “Wanna come hang out?” Hope asked
“Alright” Amber said. After a long and fun time of running through the forest and such, Hope walked back toward the castle, looking at the new shops and houses that were being build, the place had grown so much since she was little, the forest was now so much smaller, though she didn’t take much notice.

10 years later…
Fights had sparked out in the kingdom, and with that, rebellion. But the rebellion… didn’t go well. Everyone part of the rebellion was to go to prison. Amber had been part of the rebellion, and Princess Hope wasn’t going to let Amber go to prison. In the night, Hope helped the rebels escape into boats so they could get far, far away from the kingdom “Goodbye” She said, softly “Goodbye.” Said Amber, as the boats floated away, and Hope started to cry. The kingdom grew, even if not everyone and everything was happy about it. The forest shrank back even more, forcing the animals farther and farther back to avoid getting hurt by the people of the kingdom.

10 years later…
The kingdom was in shambles, with the King and Queen now gone, and the forest was getting restless, with animals stealing food from farmers. The kingdom grown quite big since Hope was a young girl, and the forest was oh so very little now, compared to how big the forest was back when she was small. More and more villagers, farmers, and guards were all coming to her about the animals “There are deer stealing my crops!“ “Wolves won’t stop attacking my sheep!” Were some of the concerns that the people would come to her about. The kingdom was definitely growing much larger, and with that, there more people, which meant more mouths that would need to be fed. She tried calm their concerns by talking to kingdom, but that hardly helped much. She was worried, and scared. The last thing she need now was a rebellion.

10 years later…
The kingdom was falling apart, the animals were becoming even more reckless, with dragons stealing food, which was very, very rare. People were leaving to find better places to live, and frankly, Hope didn’t blame them. The kingdom was falling apart. Queen Hope didn’t know what to do. At all. The kingdom was shrinking, just as the forest had shrank when they had first settled these lands.

10 years later…
Queen Hope was leaving, she was now the last person left in this fallen apart kingdom. She remember first moving here, with her family, she would miss it. The forests, the lakes, the hills, the wild. That is what she would miss the most. But… wasn’t most of wild gone now? She looked around, at the once large kingdom, the forest pushed far away from the city. She sighed as she headed toward the carriage to take her away from the old ruined kingdom. As she stepped toward the carriage, she saw a familiar face. Amber. “AMBER!” She screamed, hugging her old best friend. “Hi” Amber said “I’ve missed you.” Hope said “As have i.” Amber said, as they board the carriage together. “Goodbye, my kingdom, let nature cover you again.” Hope said, as the carriage drove off.

Just plopping this at the top of here for now - it's for Stingray
About me:
Hi, I’m Paige! I use she/her pronouns and I live in the EST timezone.. I’m eighteen (how and when did that happen? /j /lh) and currently taking a gap year between highschool and post-secondary education. Despite how that sounds, I am very much still a child at heart, which can be evidenced by my ongoing obsession with numerous fandoms such as Star Wars (my absolute favourite) and Marvel. I was homeschooled for grades 1-11, then went to an awesome alternative school for grade 12. Because of these styles of education, I have been able to freely explore my interests, which include sewing, writing, and acting - and mainly anything involving theatre. Theatre is my passion, and I hope to go into costume design/construction for theatre as a career. Some of my current projects include making a chainmail shirt from soda can pop tabs, and writing a fantasy book with Soki. I’m also hoping to soon start working on constructing a Regency-era historical outfit (think Jane Austen.)

Previous participation:
I’ve participated in SWC as a camper eight times, if I’m counting correctly, and as a co-leader once. I’ve been writing for six years now, and have learned a lot through the internet. I took an online writing class a few years back, and I’ve read multiple books about novel-writing. I’m familiar with multiple types of plot structures and techniques for character- and world-building. Past leadership roles of mine include volunteering for drama classes and nature classes for elementary and middle school aged kids. I’ve also taught my own drama classes, and worked at my synagogue's youth program for around five years, during which I coordinated programming for a group of mixed ages.

Cabin preferences:
I have an idea for a Lord of the Rings themed cabin. It would be themed around the journey to Mordor, with the cabin currency being leagues (or some other measure of distance), representing the distance that we’ve traveled. The campers would all be part of the Fellowship of the Ring. Our goal would be to get to Mordor (by getting enough leagues/traveling enough distance), and maybe there would be a special writing task at the end that everyone has to do in order for us to destroy the ring. (I don’t think that’s too spoiler-y for LOTR? I’m pretty sure I knew the gist of this before I read it.) I’m thinking there would be short, weekly in-cabin writing tasks aimed at fostering new writing skills, while also being inspired by LOTR. An example could be a task to make a family tree for one of your characters, which is a very useful technique and very related to the type of worldbuilding in LOTR. I think this cabin theme would work for Fantasy, Adventure, or maybe even Classics (my first choice would be Fantasy, but I’d be happy with any of them). I think it could probably also work for The Cabin That Will Not Win, but I’ll leave that to the hosts to decide. I’d be okay to lead TCTWNW, I would just focus more on in-cabin activities and personal growth.

Time Dedication:
Since I’m on my gap year currently, I’m much less busy in terms of schoolwork. That said, I’m looking to find some sort of job or volunteer position, and if I find one, I’m not sure how that will affect my schedule/availability. But overall and either way, I think I can safely say that on a normal day, I can be online for at least a half hour, often more. I can also come online for a couple minutes at various points throughout a day.

I have some religious holidays in October, during which I won’t be able to be online, but I don’t think that will negatively impact my cabin planning.

One more thing: I can’t be online most of the day on Saturdays. I don’t believe this negatively impacts my SWC participation, with the exception of cabin wars. I have almost never been able, and will not be able, to participate in cabin wars. To effectively deal with this as a leader, I would make sure that at least one of my cos has previous experience in cabin wars. I would let my cos know I won’t be able to participate, and hand off leadership of that to them.

Time Management:

When it comes to time management, I am aware that I can get overwhelmed when I have too much on my plate. It can make me freeze up and be unable to accomplish anything.

That said, I am good at making schedules for myself that spread out my workload and keep me from getting overwhelmed. I use calendars and to-do lists to help keep me on track and on top of things.

Collaboration and assets:
I would say that my biggest weakness in working with others is my social anxiety; it can often prevent me from making new connections, or from properly sharing my thoughts and ideas. I do find it much easier online, though, because I can read over messages before sending them. And once I get to know people, my anxiety fades away and I become very talkative. I love working with people who share similar interests with me, and building new ideas together. I’m good at keeping things organized and delegating tasks, and I’m very creative. Sometimes I suffer from a lack of self-confidence, but when I’m working with a group of amazing people, my belief that we can get things done and create something amazing together overpowers any doubts I might have.

One Quality:
The one quality I value most in a leader is approachableness. A friendly leader can be what makes or breaks a cabin atmosphere. Great leaders are what have so often made me feel at home in SWC, and as a leader, I would embody that trait by being active in the cabin and checking up on campers, asking how they’re doing and how their writing goals are going. I would ask fun questions and initiate conversations in the cabin so that campers can get to know each other. I would answer questions as quickly as possible, and if it’s something I don’t know the answer to, I would send them to someone who does. Most of all, I would make sure to always be kind.

Cabin atmosphere:
Friendly, community oriented, and focused on personal writing growth and goals. Campers are encouraged to participate in a way that works for and is worthwhile to them.

Checkboxes:
(not check marked)I will be available to help add points in the main cabin consistently throughout camp
(check marked but that doesn't work in forums-)I’m willing to share a promotional project for SWC

B: I can complete all the leadership responsibilities listed in the FAQ.

C: In the case that I had to go inactive, I would let my co-leaders, the hosts, and the leader team know, ideally a few days in advance, if possible. At the ‘OK’ of the hosts, I would ask one of my cos to take on my leadership responsibilities, transfer studio hostship to them, and try to help find a new co to take over their previous responsibilities. I would explain things to my campers so that they know what’s happening, and I would try to be online and help if I was at all able. If I was only inactive temporarily, I would keep everyone updated on when I’d be back.
If one of my cos went inactive, I would ask that they let me know as much in advance as possible (ex. letting me know that 24 hours from now they will no longer be able to count words), and make sure one of us lets the hosts and leader team know. I would initially have them make sure all word counts are accurate and then transfer the hostship of their word count studio to me. If me and my other co(s) felt the workload would be too much for us alone, I would look at co-leader applications of people that hadn’t been chosen and ask one of them to take over as a co.


Paige's writing

Weekly #2 - 1681 words
i have not read over most of this and it has no editing lol

3 word story inspo:
3 word story inspo:
Sometimes they fight
Each other when
Things get rough
But that’s only
One more reason
To love them

“Ezra! Show yourself this instant or I will paint your entire room puke-green!”
Hera looked up from the holonews to see Sabine stomping through the Ghost’s common room. “Sabine,” she called after the Mandalorian, “what’s going on?”
“Stay out of this, Hera,” was the angry reply.
Hera sighed and turned off the holo, but she didn’t move quite yet, waiting to see what would happen first.
“Ezra, I know you’re here! That puke-green is gonna happen!”
There was the sound of a door opening, then Zeb’s voice; “Hey, this is my room, too. And if he were in here, I’d hand him over. Now get out.” A few moments later, Sabine stomped back into the room.
“You haven’t seen him, have you, Hera?”
Hera shook her head. “Can I know what’s going on?”
“That little brat took all my hair dye!”
“How do you know?” Hera asked calmly.
Before Sabine could answer, something above them rattled and they both looked up. A second later, Ezra Bridger fell from the ceiling vent.
“I’m okay,” he said into the silence.
“Ezra, I think you’ve officially broken every vent on this ship,” Hera muttered, getting up to inspect the metal grate on the floor. She kept an eye on Sabine, who stood with her hands on her hips.
“Give it back.”
“Give - give what back?” he stuttered, doing a terrible job of sounding natural, pulling at the edges of the orange hat that conspicuously covered his hair.
“My hair dyes.”
“I didn’t - “
“Take off your hat,” Sabine interrupted, rolling her eyes.
Ezra stood his ground for a moment, eyes defiant, before faltering under the Mandalorian girl’s gaze. He pulled off the hat, revealing bright blue locks. Not his natural hair colour. Hera raised her eyebrows.
“I didn’t think you’d be so angry,” the boy said.
“Of course I’m angry! You kriffing stole my stuff!”
That was it, Hera knew. That was the part that hit Sabine so hard. The girl was very protective of her personal belongings, the few things that she’d kept throughout all she’d been through.
“Ezra, you should have asked first,” Hera put in gently, standing up to finally join in her children’s argument.
“I would have, I just… thought she’d laugh at me.”
“Me? Laugh at you for dyeing your hair?” Sabine asked in disbelief. Ezra raised his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe I would have a little, but still, I could have helped you. I would have.” She crossed her arms.
Hera decided to ask what Sabine couldn’t. “What’s going on, Ezra?”
He looked up at her, suddenly seeming so small, so young. Too young for all this. Finally he got the words out: “I’m scared.”
Hera nodded, and led her children over to the table to sit, to talk, to work through things. She loved them so much, she didn’t even know if she could comprehend how much.

bestselling bookstore blurb:
Years after magic has been outlawed, Raymond secretly trains under a wizard-in-hiding after school. Every evening, he goes home to his uncle, a distant man who doesn’t seem to notice anything Ray does.
Kassaya is the daughter of a renowned law enforcement officer who came to fame for helping root out wizards. Then one day she decides to follow shy, quiet Ray home from school, in the hopes of befriending him, only to discover that he’s the very thing she’s been taught to destroy.
Ellian is part of an underground group looking to bring back wizards. When an unexpected attack leaves Kassaya with magic inside her, Ellian finds herself tasked with the daunting job of leading her and Ray to safety. Will she be able to overcome her self-doubt? Will Kassaya be able to rid herself of the magic she’s been taught to fear? Will Ray be able to take his teacher’s place and become the wizard he’s afraid he’ll never be?

Story inspired by @PixelDucko's blurb

It’s the middle of social studies when Bennet hears it - not a tapping at the window, or a low growl, like he’s become accustomed to, but rather a sudden “Oh my God” from his left. Everyone in the class turns to look at Mira, the girl those words came from - everyone, that is, except for Bennet. He can’t stop staring at the thing that looks like it’s clawing at the window.
He glances back at Mira. Her wide eyes meet his own, and in that instant he realizes that she can see it too. For the first time, someone else can see the monsters. And he has no idea what to do about it.
“Mira, is everything alright?” our teacher, Ms. Brian asks. I look down at my notes quickly, but I can feel Mira’s eyes on my back.
“Yes,” I finally hear her say. “Could I just go to the bathroom, please?”
I breathe out a sigh of relief, only for the sound of rattling windows to make me snap my head back up to the translucent slime creature slamming itself against the side of the school.
It has no eyes, no limbs, nothing. Inside it’s see-through gel, pencils float.

Later at lunch, I abandon my ‘friends’ - we really only interact from 12-1 every day, while the rest of the time we might as well not know each other - to investigate. I carefully make my way to the outside of my social studies classroom.
The creature is nowhere to be seen, but it’s left slimy scratches on the wall - maybe from the pencils inside it? Nobody else seems to notice the damage, and I stand there, trying to puzzle it out.
Then, a voice from behind me says, “Hi, I’m Mira. Do you have any idea what that thing was?”

poem about reading LOTR
Reading the Return of the King

Thick, creamy pages filled with dark, black words
Soft cover, golden title
Menacing eye of Sauron on the front
A story of old
In which new adventures unfold
The end of the journey seems near
For the heroes of the Company

The pages have a particular smell,
A smell of paper and something new
What comes to mind are cleaning products,
Perhaps?

I read it on my stomach, on my bed,
Elbows pushed down into the matress,
Propping me up
My fingers holding the thick book book open
As it tries to do what it would rather do,
Which is close.
And my feet are cold despite my socks
So I stuff them under the tangle of blankets

Both sunlight and electric light illuminate the pages

Finally, I’m on the third book
Reading once again about Middle Earth
Almost at the end
Both a relief and sad.
But I still have most of the book left to go,
And I look forward
To the appendices

google translate:
Started with this:
“Ezra! Show yourself this instant or I will paint your entire room puke-green!”
Hera looked up from the holonews to see Sabine stomping through the Ghost’s common room. “Sabine,” she called after the Mandalorian, “what’s going on?”
“Stay out of this, Hera,” was the angry reply.
Hera sighed and turned off the holo, but she didn’t move quite yet, waiting to see what would happen first.
“Ezra, I know you’re here! That puke-green is gonna happen!”

Turned into this:
“Ezra! But come now, I'll paint your whole house!
Hera looked up from behind her to see Sabine entering the Witch House. “Sabin,” Mandal said at last, “what’s going on?”
“Fight, Love,” came the angry reply.
Hera ducked and dodged the hologram, but it still didn't move, waiting for its first look.
“Ezra, I knew you were here!

Story is this:
All was quiet in the Witch House. Hera stirred her potion feeling unusually peaceful, while Mandal touched up his painting on the wall across the room. His artwork really was magnificent, Hera thought. The painted trees, vines, and flowers made it look almost as if there were a real forest inside the potions lab. Little runes floated here and there throughout the picture, witch’s runes that Hera hadn’t learned to read yet. But the brightly coloured flowers just made her happy inside.
“I can paint the whole house, if you want,” Mandal said with a smile when he noticed her watching.
“I’m not sure Elvian would permit it. The old man always says colour hurts his eyes,” Hera laughed, thinking of the stone-faced elderly leader of the House.
“He does his best,” Mandal replied, suddenly serious. His voice had that ‘older brother’ tone to it, like he felt he was teaching Hera something. She shrugged and gave her potion a stir, then gave a yelp as it boiled over the sides of the cauldron.
“Heat’s too high,” Mandal says, back to shading the flowers.
“I know,” she grumbled, blowing a wisp of her black hair out of her face. She lowered the temperature and was working on wiping up the mess, when a phone rang.
“It’s me,” Mandal said quickly, fishing his iphone out of his back pocket. His eyebrows scrunched, and Hera looked over his shoulder to see a number but no name. After a moment Mandal shrugged and accepted the call, turning on it on speaker phone so Hera could hear. There was humour in his eyes as he asked, “Are you advertising duct cleaning? Because that’s a lost cause - everyone has chickens nowadays.”
The voice that responded was not what either of them expected. It sounded like a young woman, stressed, and painfully familiar to their ears.
“Mandal, shut up, you’ve got to listen to me!” the panicked voice of Mandal’s as-of-yet-unofficially-ex-girlfriend said. “Tell me you’re really listening.”
Mandal was silent for a long moment, surprise, hurt, and confusion in the older boy’s eyes. “Sabin,” he said at last. “What’s going on? You haven’t contacted me at all since you left the Witch House. For all I knew, you were dead!”
“I didn’t have a choice, and I don’t have time for this,” she replied, and now they could hear loud crashes in the background. “I need you to listen, now. For the sake of everyone at the House. Please.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
Sabin was silent, but whatever was causing the crashes was not. Presently, Hera heard what sounded like running, and then heavy breathing. Then Sabin’s voice returned, sounding aggravated: “Because all I want is for you to be safe and - “ the sentence ended with a blood curdling scream. Hera clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Fight them, Mandal. Fight, Love!” Sabin’s pained voice breathed, before abruptly hanging up.
Hera was working up the courage to glance at Mandal when footsteps sounded from outside. She glanced at the window instead, only for everything to click into place. Hundreds of blue-ish people marched up the lawn, fading in and out of existence. Hera remembered the first time she’d seen them, thinking they were holograms. Now she wished she still had that naivety.
Behind her, she heard Mandal whisper under his breath, “We have to fight.”

Daily july 3rd - 555 words:
(warning: I have done absolutely zero editing on this, so it may be incongruent or nonsensical)
Alvirazir is a kingdom in space, consisting of a massive network of space stations and asteroids. People from all across the galaxy live here, and it’s been growing and expanding for centuries. At this point in time humans have been living on many different planets, and last names denote where a person is from. The kingdom is ruled by Queen Mary Earthling, a rather strict and cunning ruler, and not the kindest, but in the grand scheme of things she’s a better ruler than most.

Ten years pass…

Queen Mary is getting older and has no heir. She starts reaching out to different doctors and scientists, looking into new developments in extending life-spans. The kingdom at large is prospering, with new connections and trade routes being established. But class and societal disparities have been becoming more and more pronounced in recent years; those from Earth are seen as superior, closer to their roots. People from other planets are seen as lesser, especially the farther from Earth their planet of origin is. (Everyone is human and originally from Earth, but humans have been living on other planets for quite a long time.)

Ten years pass…

An uprising occurs. The people originating from far planets, colloquially called ‘Outerlings,’ are dissatisfied with their place in the kingdom, and storm the grand space-station palace, demanding change. The Queen refuses to give in to their demands, and an angry citizen stabs her. Her servants rush her from the room, never to be seen again, presumably dead.

Ten years pass…

The people attempted first to establish democracy, but continuing public unrest caused it to crumble quickly. Currently, a new monarch has been appointed, a woman with both Earthling and Outerling ancestors (mainly Marsling). But whispers about the old Queen Mary abound, rumours that she somehow lives on. Meanwhile, some sections of the station have fallen into disrepair, and some of the livable domes constructed on the asteroids are now uninhabitable.

Ten years pass…

Queen Mary has risen from the shadows and now once again rules Alvirazir. Because of the injuries she sustained in the uprising two decades ago, she now appears almost more mechanical than human; a cyborg. Mary, a full Earthling, cracks down on the Outerlings, whom she blames for her exile. Quality of life plummets for many people, and many are forced to live in only semi-inhabitable areas of the kingdom.

Ten years pass…

The now despotic queen has done everything she can to increase the walls between social structures. She clearly holds a grudge. But a decade and a half into her second reign, a section of the space station’s outer wall falters, exposing the kingdom to the vacuum of space. It is eventually secured by the queen’s army, but not before people and buildings from an upper-class neighborhood nearby have been sucked into space. A report from the team who repairs it gets sent back to the queen: they suspect sabotage. Which begs the question… have the insurgents risen once more?

Ten years pass…

The kingdom has been split into many little city states, mostly denoted by different sections of the station or different asteroids, with Queen Mary still holding onto the largest one. Violent conflict arises regularly, and the queen acquires more and more cyborg-like futures in her attempt to combat the steady climb towards death.

cabin: thriller (tctwnw)
date: 2024-07-03
words: 579

Midnight. An assassin takes out the King and Queen, sleeping in their bedrooms. A Crown Princess, crying over their deaths. Her Prince Consort beside her, always beside her, comforting her. Through her grief, this Crown Princess must ascend the throne of the kingdom, and prevent any more attempts on their lives. She is only twenty, and her consort, twenty two. Swallowing her grief, the Crown Princess’s coronation is turned into a wedding, a bittersweet day for the newly wedded Queen and her consort, Maia and Clayton.

Evaria. A beautiful kingdom of prosperity, ruled over by Queen Maia and King Clayton, and their daughter, Crown Princess Xena. The Royal Palace, the City of Evaria, and its surrounding villages are all thriving under the rule of Maia and Clayton. It is a happy time in the kingdom, for their youngest daughter, Princess Rayna, has just been born.

But harmony cannot always last. Ten years have passed, and the kingdom still flourishes, and the two Princesses have grown up quickly. Maia and Clayton are happy to have raised such a happy family. Within the palace, the Crown Princess Xena grows anxious. And jealous. Waiting for her time to ascend the throne. So, she takes it. An attempted assassination of Maia and Clayton late in the night, made to look like an accident. The kingdom finds out, and Xena is stripped of her titles and banished forever.

It seems the kingdom is once again at peace. Ten years later, Queen Maia and King Clayton abdicated the throne, believing themselves to be unfit to rule, leaving their only remaining daughter, Crown Princess Rayna to ascend the throne. Rayna’s ascension is peaceful, and is met with celebration throughout the kingdom. The kingdom is once again prosperous, and it is here when a young, nine-year-old girl with an interest in books comes to the palace and becomes a member of the Guild of Royal Librarians, named Alayne Chancery.

But peace never lasts in this kingdom. It is known by the people as the “ten-year-curse”, that every ten years, something would happen to the Royal Family and the kingdom would be thrown into crisis. They are not wrong. In the past ten years, not much has changed on the outside. The kingdom is in prosperity, and is safe. Queen Rayna has adopted a Crown Princess, Arya Evaria. As the Queen was peacefully sleeping one night, she is attacked, but saved by one of her Honour Guards. Queen Rayna enlists the help of Alayne Chancery, a young Palace Librarian known for her detective skills. She discovers the conspiracy of Xena and her two daughters, Bethel and Ambrosia. It seems like the events of ten years prior would not stay buried.

But where there is chaos, there is also harmony. When there is war, there will be peace. And so, ten years after a brutal battle where Xena returned and took the throne, and Crown Princess Arya’s deepest secret - that she was Ambrosia, daughter of Xena - was revealed, the kingdom is once again prosperous, ruled by Queen Rayna, with Crown Princess Arya set to ascend the throne. Palace Librarian Alayne Chancery is set to become the youngest Head Librarian ever, and Xena and Bethel were banished from the kingdom, never to be seen or heard from again.

And so the kingdom remained this way for many years, prosperous until the very end. Going through great tests, and cycles of chaos and harmony, conflict and resolution, of argument and agreement.

(https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/1043644221) Daily! 527 words for time skip kingdom :3

★ churro's dailies. 03
july 3rd.

The white diamond streets pristine without a speck. Viridian emerald buildings sparkle on the roads. Ruby red cars and sapphire buses bustle down the highways. And the glamorous people, with their lustrous jewelry and clothes that looked stitched from gold itself. Garnet offices rise high over the newfound Jewel City, a new age of glory and light. It was like Heaven on earth.
But Heaven doesn't belong on earth.
——–
Quite some time has passed.
The mines have been depleted by quite a lot. The very industry Jewel City was named from was starting to meet it's demise. But not just yet! The people don't know about it yet. As long as their clothes stayed gold and the streets stayed clean and the buildings still shined and the cars still moved, they wouldn't know. They wouldn't care. Jewel City is, basically, Heaven on earth! No way it could fall like that! Humans have been created to rule earth, and if they used up all of earth's resources, the earth would just have to supply more. Faster growing economy, right? Who would hinder the growth of humanity anyway? Isn't that a good thing?
——–
Heaven on earth.
Jewel City's mayor was freaking out. The mines, with all their precious minerals, were being exhausted at quite a rate. Within 50 years, the very engine of Jewel City would run out. Where would Heaven go then? Where would the Jewel citizens go?
No, he thought. We need to start making more diamonds ourselves, if our planet won't provide it to us fast enough.
Outside, the city's streets still glowed, hundreds of diamonds crushed to make them. The buildings still glinted, built with glossy emerald bricks. The cars still ran, like a blur of red, and the buses still sprinted, like a flash of blue.
But not for long.
——–
At first, lab grown jewels seem like a good idea. With the amount of minerals being consumed every day to uphold the facade of Jewel City's now famous slogan “Heaven on earth”, continually being supplied gems seem like an optimal solution. After all, humanity dominated the earth. They created this paradise for their own entertainment using up the earth's materials, and nobody stopped them. Because they're humans! They demand more, and they get what they want. They always get what they want. If the earth can't work a little faster, humans will have to figure out another way around it.
By now the streets were a little dimmed, losing their luster every second. Buildings started crumbling, as there wasn't enough material to sustain them. And the people- where did their golden clothing go? Gone. They were angry. Where had all their resources gone?
All they wanted was more, more, more.
——-
Gone.
Where had Heaven gone? A more appropriate name for Jewel City would probably be Stone City.
Every last diamond, every last gem, had gone. And for what? For this thing we call ‘Heaven’.
Is it worth it?
Jewel City's diamond streets; gone. Jewel City's shimmering buildings; gone. Jewel City's smiling citizens; gone.
Jewel City's facade?
Gone.

Beyond the reach of any reality is a place of towering giants: beings beyond mortal comprehension gathered from every timeline when things go wrong. You see this world was first created long ago as a void space where a deity of size and matter could press their limits without destroying the universes around them. The void was infinite, growing with the beings inside of it without disturbing the matter beyond its borders. It was in essence a perfect sandbox world, one of many that the pantheon created for their own activities. This was different though. Unlike other deities, this entity was singular, like a few others. Unable to or unlikely to be split along with the timelines and alternate realities like some of their siblings. And so they remained, subconsciously nurturing the growth of all realities.
Many years passed as the meaning of creation shifted towards the making of lesser beings. With this came mortals, both those having been gifted powers and those without them. This genesis came with problems though, as all across the timelines individuals with size changing abilities began to push the boundaries of existence. Many believe that their universe is infinite, but this is natural when given limited knowledge. Every universe is calculable by higher beings, each growing at a calculable rate. To put it simply, reality is finite but evergrowing. However, when an entity surpasses the rate of growth of their respective universe, there is the possibility that they could break the boundaries of it. It's not a question of if that one universe is destroyed; if it has gotten to this point that world is beyond saving. But before the rules were set in place, those entities would grow beyond their universe, disrupting others by their mere presence. Some did their best to avoid destruction, others developed a taste for it, absorbing or consuming entire realities at their leisure. This made the treelike timeline become heavily pruned to the point where new branching timelines became more and more rare. Tasked by the void of creation, the deity of size repurposed her void, reluctantly giving it up to contain all of these universe filling threats. Radiated cats, meddling dragons, all consuming turtles, every creature that lost control of their size changing abilities or intentionally pushed themselves to be bigger than reality found themselves in that place, in a sea of plateau sized scales and rocky terrain. In this place whatever caused their size to go haywire was snuffed out, removing their ability to become more of an issue.
At the beginning, the void was left unsupervised, and the most ambitious of the titans started to subjugate those who had less power than they. However the founder of the void soon sent down cherubim to get things settled. For those who longed for destruction the void became a prison, trapping them in chains and magic to prevent them from doing harm to the timeline again. For the others the world became a new adventure; a place to explore and forget your sense of scale in the universe. To live with other giants peacefully for however long they wanted. This remained as such for many many years.
As time passed by and a few universes became more technology focused, the creation of size augmenting technology became more and more frequent. This became a hurdle, as it couldn't be controlled as easily by the cherubim as magic. However, they learned techniques to keep these new threats from breaking their rules, and with the idea of technology now introduced to them, they decided to start altering the landscape they watched over. Buildings started to be constructed: hotels and villas started popping up where the titans could visit. The deity, who had passed her mantle to another, was amused yet wary about the change, but the caretakers assured that all would be well. However, while they continued their duties effectively, they began to act softer and less like guards and more like hotel staff, tour guides, and real estate agents. The void was quickly becoming more of a staycation destination and less of a universal asset storage. With the guardians becoming more relaxed and enjoying mingling with the colossi they contained, sooner or later something would go wrong.
And yet, things remained well. With more arrivals the land became more and more inhabited, becoming a world comparable to others, yet far, FAR more vast. Despite the addition of technology and the rules that it added, the realm continued in peace with the extraterrestrial beings welcoming the new titans and helping them adjust to life without their original reality. It was a lot of work but the numbers of caretakers grew along with the cared for. Maintaining the universes was their way of life, and despite their kinder approach to protecting it, the timeline was kept safe and tidy.

(WC 808)
(Special thanks to @minergold48 for helping me with some lore bits!)

Weekly pt 1 for sci-fi (185 words)

→ @emililies scene
The little secluded beach was thought to be a beautiful sight. There, light wind blows with the waves, bringing a taste of the ocean with it. The drafts contrast the warm summer air. It hits Margot’s face, spraying her with a light mist. While she was engulfed by the ocean breeze, she could feel the pounding of the waves against her ankles. The rhythmic crashing was like Mother Nature's music, filling Margot's ears with the gentle rising and falling of the ocean water. She admired the hues of blue that filled the horizon, and watched as it became a golden color once it reached the sandy shore. The sun's rays reflect on the dancing waves, adding a beautiful glow. As she stood by the shore, Margot could feel the sand that blanketed her feet. It felt denser than the loose sand a few steps away, but still soft as it was being moved by the waves. The girl felt at peace as she continued to take in the beauty of the area. I don't want to leave, she thought.
179 words

→ my scene 10 years later

10 years later, the beach had changed, but not for the better. Plastic bags and water bottles littered the shore. The waves lapped against piles of garbage. The cries of the seagulls that had once roamed the beach had disappeared, leaving a deafening silence that even the waves couldn’t break. Margot hadn’t been to the beach for years; if she had, she would have disapproved immensely of the state that the beach had come to. The beach still called to her, though, almost as if it was pleading for her help. Even though she had ignored it for years, she finally gave in, packing gloves and trash bags in the car before beginning the drive.
Despite the pollution that had overtaken the beach, Margot still couldn’t help but notice the small amount of beauty that remained. The sun still painted the sky brilliant reds and oranges, though now it cast the light over floating garbage that drifted to shore. She waited for a moment just as she had done all those years ago, then grabbed her bags and gloves and trekked down to the beach.